ME, MYSELF & IRENE A film review by David N. Butterworth Copyright 2000 David N. Butterworth
** (out of ****)
Jim Carrey playing a schizophrenic.
It's such an obvious concept you have to wonder why someone didn't think of it sooner. Unfortunately, Bobby and Peter Farrelly, the sicko sibs who brought us "There's Something About Mary," did think of it, and that means their latest film is filled with as much gross-out humor as it is Jim Carrey going "from gentle to mental" (the film's smart tagline).
In fact, "Me, Myself & Irene" is actually filled with *more* gross-out humor than it is Carrey doing his split personality thing, and that's its biggest failing. After the success of "'Mary," the Farrellys have clearly been trying to top their hysterical hair-gel sight gag, and "Me, Myself & Irene" serves up a scene or situation every ten minutes which threatens to dislodge it. But it never quite manages it. That's because "There's Something About Mary" was a rather sophisticated little comedy that went for shock value any chance it could. "Me, Myself & Irene" is a pretty tasteless--and much less funny--film highlighted by Jim Carrey pratfalling all over himself.
In this tale of a mild-mannered highway patrolman named Charlie (Carrey) whose pent-up emotions are finally unleashed in the form of an obnoxious alter-ego named Hank, the rubber-limbed comedian is adroitly cast. Charlie is so meek and well-meaning that he's taken advantage of by just about everybody in his small Rhode Island town. Until he meets Irene, that his, and the lascivious Hank emerges.
Two personalities in love with the same women? Clever idea. Let's stick a chicken up someone's butt and see if it flies. Ah, the subtle humor of Bobby and Peter Farrelly.
Renée Zellweger ("Jerry Maguire") plays Irene. Her performance is an odd one, since it feels displaced, as if phoned-in from another movie. She's never involved in any of the truly shocking stuff, only occasionally pausing to crinkle up her nose when Carrey (as the bully Hank) says something outrageous.
The Farrellys have a unique talent for making us squirm, but for two hours straight it's a bit much. I can watch a dog defecating on someone's lawn without paying $8.00 for the privilege thank you very much. "Me, Myself & Irene" is filled with a lot of good ideas that just sit around awaiting punchlines, or one-joke setups that are stretched out in perpetuity.
Take Charlie's three African American sons, for example--that's right, it seems that his pretty young (Caucasian!) wife was less than faithful. It's a funny concept, but the writers (the brothers and Mike Cerrone) do little with it and instead go for cheap laughs by having the trio constantly spewing street language. I like the idea of three behemoths kissing their racially-different Daddy on the cheek as he leaves for work but all the stuff about quantum physics (their biological father is a Mensa chapter leader) is ridiculous, as is most of the film.
Once again the Farrellys poke fun at everyone, so no one group should feel singled out, but it takes away from what might have been some truly inspired cinema. Jim Carrey struggling with a multiple personality disorder is indeed an obvious (if clever) pitch for a whacked-out comedy. Unfortunately, the bulk of "Me, Myself & Irene" is raunchy and crude and all rather obvious too.
-- David N. Butterworth dnb@dca.net
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